Discliamer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Angelina pushed her way through the masses in the Great Hall, the crying faces, the crowds of mourning families, looking for Fred, her Fred…
Past memories swarmed through her head. If he's dead, no more Quidditch with him. If he's dead, no more laughing 'til you cry. If he's dead, what are you going to do?
She dashed towards the flame-haired family sitting on the ground, knelt around something, someone…
She saw what she hoped was Fred. Rushing towards, she reached out to tap him when she noticed the one difference between Fred and George.
Where one of his ears should have been was a hole.
Her heart sunk. She counted the Weasleys, one by one, until she noticed someone was missing, and someone wasn't there…
She moved in closer and saw what they were looking at. Her breath hitched, and she couldn't move.
Fred was laying dead on the floor, his face laughing, and his eyes happy…
"No…" she cried and stumbled backward, "No…"
Tears slid down her face, her heart aching.
"I love you, Angie. I won't die. I won't leave you."
She couldn't help but yell, yell at the laughing face which would hear her no more, cry out for him to come back and hold her one last time.
"You lied!" she shouted, her finger trembling as it pointed at Fred's body. "You promised!"
She felt a sadness she had never felt before, as if all pain and loss and grief had come to her.
The room spun as she tried to focus on what to do, tried to see Fred's happy face, the only way he really ever was…
"Why are you so happy? We lost."
"There are always things to be happy for," he remarked, winking at her.
She found herself crying in George's arms, trying to find what she could be happy for, trying to be happy the Fred had always been.
"You're lucky; you got to go to the ball with Fred. You two are so happy together; why aren't you dating?"
Angelina tried to hide her elated smile. "I don't know."
There were so many things that Angelina couldn't do with Fred anymore. All the plans they made were gone, lost in time, dying with Fred and crumpling in her heart.
She didn't know how much time had passed between when she found out Fred was dead and now. All she knew was that Mrs. Weasley was shaking her, her face red and tear stained, telling her she needed to get some rest.
"It's been a long day, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice quavering, "Please get some rest."
Some people had gone up to their old Common Rooms to sleep, and she found no better place to go. She trudged up to Gryffindor Tower, and by the time she reached her old room, so many old, painful memories were flooding back to her that she found nothing better to do than sleep.
She was invited to stay at the Burrow the week before Fred's funeral, and although she thought that she might not be able to deal with the pain, she went anyway. She climbed up the stairs to what was Fred's old room, told by George that Fred might've left her something.
She pulled open a drawer. She found clothes, failed experiments, among other things. Her hand brushed along a piece of paper, and she pulled it up, her hand shaking.
Angie,
I love you. If I die in the war, don't forget me. Don't be too sad, though. Be the proud, strong Angie I always knew.
Well, it's difficult for me to put my feelings on paper. You know me-I'm more used to joking about serious things than actually saying something.
But here it is: I want to marry you. Obviously, I can't do that if I'm dead. But I love you and want to spend the rest of my humble existence in a relationship with the funniest and kindest woman I know.
Don't lose hope if I die. You'll see me again someday. The only thing I ask is that you take care of George for me. And don't forget about me. Oh, and deliver an awesome speech at my funeral that'll make people happy. I know that's a lot to ask, but you don't have to do everything perfectly.
If I die, I want you to have the locket that's in this drawer somewhere. Muggles usually put pictures inside them, so I put pictures inside of this one. I hope you love it as much as I love you.
I know I've already said it, but if I die, don't forget me. I definitely won't forget you. Don't forget how much I love you. Don't forget all of the Quidditch games, all of the pranks, our memories…please.
Ever your prankster,
Fred
She was sobbing. Fred had wanted to marry her. He didn't want her to forget, but how could she? How could she forget him, their memories, the pranks, their dates, their kisses? It was impossible. Life without him was already hard, but forgetting would be unimaginably difficult.
She dug around in the drawer for the locket. Her hand caught the chain, and she pulled it out, her quavering hands holding it tightly.
She looked at the necklace. The small, silver heart had a small flower engraved into it with a red jewel in the center. She opened it and stared at the pictures on the inside.
On the left side was a picture of her and Fred laughing, just fooling around. On the right side was a picture of them high fiving during a Quidditch game, so happy and excited.
She touched the pictures and just whispered, "Fred."
She put the necklace on and held the heart in her hand. Her heart ached at the thought that she was going to have to give a speech at his funeral. It was what he wanted.
She trudged down the stairs, her eyes catching George's sad body, crumpled hopelessly on the couch.
She sat down next to him and whispered, "I know it's not much, but I'm here for you."
This is my entry for Project PULL. Please tell me what you thought about the story! I'm not sure about how I ended it, though.